Eleven
“You lived on a ranch, Ben,” Luke said as he stepped over a log, “so you should know the basic operations of haying. Like how the beaverslide works.”
“I was only eight when we left the ranch,” Ben replied as he trod the well-worn path between June’s cabin and the O’Neils’. “I was supposed to help the hay crew that summer.”
“You watched, didn’t you?”
“Well, yeah, of course.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
Ben shrugged. They’d reached Pat and Aeli’s cabin anyhow, and June was out on the back steps rinsing out a blue and white cooler. When she lifted her head and spotted them, she smiled, and Ben’s heart tripped a little. The rope of her braided blond hair hung over her shoulder, and the pure, rich happiness sparkling in her blue eyes stole his breath.
“Breathe, Ben,” Luke s
